Changes
by BloodyMaryPrayer
Summary: Anna and John Bates have to manage unexpected frustration when a new footman joins the house.
1. Chapter 1

John checked his pocket watch. He sat in an alcove on one of the upper floors, a fair way down the corridor from Lord Grantham's chambers. He hadn't been waiting long, only a few minutes. He wasn't impatient, but there was nothing else to do. He smiled to himself. He enjoyed these opportunities, these chances to surprise her. Even if ever so slightly.

"These wretched sheets" Anna thought, struggling to gather up the pile tumbling out of her arms so she could carry them more comfortably. She was in a relatively unused portion of the Abbey. Last night some Earl or another had stayed over and Mrs. Hughes had put him up here. He liked to drink and he liked to tell stories. Loudly. For everyone's sanity, Mrs. Hughes had put him in a room away from the others. She was fumbling with the sheets when someone grabbed her hand.

She hadn't seen him. That was his favorite. John reached out for her free hand and smiled at her surprised expression as he gently twirled her and pulled her back to him.

"Hello."

"Hello! How did you find me?"

"I'm a rather patient man."

"Oh come on. Stop being silly. How did you find me?"

"Mrs. Hughes always puts the buffoons up here and I took a wager."

"How long have you been waiting?" She asked, impressed but slightly incredulous.

"Not long."

He pulled her to him and kissed her. She kissed him back, gently, but quickly pulled away.

"John! Not here."

"I've already checked the corridor, it's deserted." He smirked at her.

Anna smiled and shifted the bedsheets into her left arm so she could wrap her right around his neck.

"Deserted, you say?" She whispered, pressing into him. He kissed her back, gently, and she responded enthusiastically. She pressed into him more, pulling him to her with her free arm. She could feel him responding.

John pulled away, smiling but giving her a stern look. "Mrs. Bates." He said with mock seriousness.

She glanced at the bulge in his crotch and gave him a sly smile. "Don't scare any maids."

He leaned toward her. Pressing his cheek to hers, he whispered into her ear. "Thanks for that."

She was about to reply when he suddenly grabbed her bottom and gave it a forceful pinch. Her hand flew to her mouth as she almost called out in surprise. Clenching her mouth shut, she glared at him. He gave her a sinful smirk and turned to walk back down the corridor.

Turning back to the bedrooms to be cleaned, Anna thought to herself "I cannot believe him." She decided suddenly that it was probably best to tidy the linen closet as she smiled and felt the flush rising up her face.

...

John eyed the new footman with little interest. Alfred had gone on to cooking school and this was his replacement. Unlike most new footmen, he wasn't overly young. Probably in his early 30's. But he seemed eager and had worked at a big house before. John stood to shake his hand as Carson introduced him and Anna stood beside him to do the same. He glanced back at Anna. As they said their hellos she seemed to linger. Only for a moment. John tried to catch her eye but she went back to her sewing. "Let it go" he told himself. She was focused on repairing a torn hem. Everything was fine. He turned back to his book.

As Carson announced a new footman, Anna stood up instinctively. Ordinarily they went around the room shaking hands with anyone new. She was tired and not paying particular attention. When Carson said Mr. Bates's name, she knew she was next and looked up and feigned a smile. She was met with striking blue eyes and what could only be called a startlingly handsome man. He appeared to be a few years younger than her, but not much.

Suddenly she remembered back to the first time she met John. When she had shaken his hand and introduced herself, she felt her breath catch. It had never happened before. Here was this man, older, limping and using a cane, and she couldn't breathe. When she got back to her room to splash water on her face, it seemed so silly. "Get a hold of yourself" she told herself in the mirror. She sat on her bed to dry her face and relax, but all she could think about was the man whose hand she had just touched. John. She barely remembered his name, but she felt warm all over.

This time, however, she found herself thinking that Timothy, as it turned out his name was, was extremely handsome in the conventional way, but otherwise uninteresting. Except that he quickly took an interest in her.


	2. Chapter 2

**I have a lot more written, so I might upload a few chapters tonight. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Yes, Mrs Hughes?"

Mrs. Hughes had asked Anna to join her in her sitting room. A not unusual request.

"It seems that at Timothy's previous employer, footmen were not expected to do any mending. He confessed to me this morning that he does not know how to sew. A bit of information that would have been helpful before we took him on, but here we are." She added the last comment with a slight roll of her eyes.

Anna waited, unsure where this was going.

"In any event, I was hoping you could show him."

* * *

Mrs. Hughes had spent some time considering this request. Timothy had only been with them for a few weeks, but Mrs, Hughes had already noticed the younger maids eying him and it was certainly not with derision. She'd even noticed Thomas casting him a look here and there. Timothy did not seem to mind the attention. Not in the least. Anna seemed to be the only one immune to his charms, and was a skilled seamstress in her own right, so she seemed the safest choice. Also, of course, she was married. Hopefully it would be enough to deter Timothy from any untoward conduct.

* * *

Mr. Bates walked into the servant's hall with a book in hand. He had completed his day's work with Lord Grantham and thought he would read while he waited for Anna. As he entered the room he looked up to see Anna and Timothy huddled together at one end of the table, bent over something. "Wonderful" he thought to himself sarcastically. He heard Anna laugh. Frowning, he cleared his throat. "What's this then?"

* * *

Anna was slightly surprised with Mrs. Hughes's request. It was unexpected but not entirely out of the ordinary. Mrs. Hughes explained that Timothy had worked at a much larger house where there were enough maids to handle all the sewing and he wasn't particularly keen in the first place, so he never had the opportunity to learn. She raised her eyebrows at Anna and Anna understood her meaning. There were plenty of maids. Not particularly keen. Most likely handsome Timothy was always able to charm some poor young maid into doing his work for him.

Anna decided to start with something simple. Mending hems. She and Timothy sat down at the end of the servant's table and she showed him the pattern of the stitching and how to thread it properly so the hem would not show. As they worked they chatted. Why had he left his previous employer? His mother lived in Ripon and had fallen ill. He left to take care of her. When she died, she left him a little money but that had run out and service was all he knew, so he came to Downton.

Anna found that, despite giving off a bit of an ego, he actually seemed sweet. They chatted easily. She explained to him the general ins and outs of working at Downton and even found herself gossiping with him a bit about the other staff members. She told him Carson seemed stuffy but was really a softie inside. Mrs. Hughes was kind and reliable. Predictable. A good leader for the maids. All were hard workers and the house generally ran smoothly.

When he pricked himself with the needle he grabbed his finger and started to curse. Remembering that he was in woman's company, he tried to hold it back, getting only as far as "Dam...arn it." Anna reached for a napkin to dab the blood and laughed at his attempt at courtesy. She was about to tell him that she certainly shouldn't report him for a single swear word, particularly while bleeding, when John walked in.

* * *

Gods she was actually _holding his hand_. What on earth was going on? He cleared his throat and they both looked up, surprised.

"John" she smiled at him, even though she was still holding that blasted man's hand.

"Mrs. Bates" he said pointedly. Timothy processed for a moment and then said "oh, I didn't..." He withdrew his hand from Anna's and smiled casually at John. "I didn't know."

John forced himself to smile back. Anna seemed oblivious to the entire thing. "Are you finished with Lord Grantham? We have a few more hems to mend but Timothy is learning quickly. Shouldn't take but a minute."

"I'll wait." He started to sit down.

"Don't be silly. I'll only be a moment. I'm sure you're exhausted. Go down and I'll be along shortly. Mrs. Patmore said we could take some of the stew down for dinner. I'll bring it with me." She smiled at him.

John stared at her for a moment. Was this some sort of deception? That didn't seem like Anna. He looked into her eyes and saw only kindness. There was nothing to worry about. Sighing quietly, he smiled. "Of course. I'll put the kettle on. Don't be long."

He turned to go out the back door. As he exited, he glanced back over his shoulder. Anna was showing Timothy how to fold the fabric properly. He closed his eyes for a moment and told himself to relax.


	3. Chapter 3

John was pacing around the cottage. He knew he shouldn't, it wasn't good for his knee, but he couldn't seem to sit still. He kept looking out the window, checking for Anna. It had been nearly a half hour. Where the devil was she? How much "help" did Timothy need? He kept picturing his hand in hers. Her laughter. He gritted his teeth. He was overreacting and he knew it. He closed his eyes and took a breath. He had mastered his temper a long time ago and he wasn't going to let it get away from him over something so ridiculous.

Finally she appeared on the path. John reached for his book and quickly sank into a chair by the fire. He tried to look calm when she opened the door. She smiled at him easily. "Hello, love."

She set down the pot she was carrying, stew from Mrs. Patmore, and crossed the room to him and sat in his lap. "How was your day?"

"Good" he replied, looking up to kiss her. "Yours?"

"Ordinary. Tiring. Should I warm up the stew?"

"What was that about with Timothy tonight?" he asked as gently as he could, ignoring her question.

She stood up and gave him a slightly confused but playful look. He couldn't possibly. Was he jealous? Surely not. It's not like she didn't speak to other men every day. Ignoring his question, she headed for the kitchen. "I'll put the stew on. Did you make tea?"

He rose to follow her, not bothering the mark the page he had been pretending to read. He sat at the kitchen table and watched her. "So," she said "turns out Timothy never learned to sew in his old position."

"And you wanted to be the one to teach him?"

She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. "Someone has to."

"Someone else, perhaps?"

She stood up from the stove and turned to face him. She suddenly found herself very irritated. "What difference does it make?"

John balked. He didn't really have a good answer to that.

"And anyway," she added "Mrs. Hughes asked me specifically so yes, it has to be me. It seems she was nervous about the other maids' attention to Timothy. Apparently he's rather handsome and has been distracting them."

John snorted and rolled his eyes. His mouth tensed.

"Not that I would have noticed" she added with a distinct hint of anger in her voice. This was absurd. He had _left_ her once, for his _wife_, and now he was giving her grief for teaching a man to sew.

"I'm sorry." John said, releasing his anger. "It's just...I know what men are interested in and it isn't sewing."

"And what is that?"

"I've seen how he looks at you. He's keen on you."

"Oh please, John. He looks at all the maids like that." So she had noticed, John thought. That didn't make him feel any better.

"Do you really think I'll go running into the arms of any man who flirts with me? Because if you do then we have bigger fish to fry."

She turned back to the stove. John was reeling. "He flirted with you?!" He crossed to her and quickly placed a hand on her shoulder to turn her to him. He looked at her with a shocked expression.

She was getting impatient with this exchange. "God, John. It's not like he's the first. As you say, I can manage."

"What?" he almost shouted. Lowering his voice slightly he implored "who _else_ flirts with you?!" He felt like his head was spinning. He had honestly never considered other men flirting with her before. Everyone at Downton had always been respectful. It was not an appealing thought.

She put her hands on her hips. John looked like he might panic. This was ridiculous. He couldn't be serious. But he was serious. That much was clear. He stared at her intently. This would never do.

"Sit down, John."

"What? No. Answer me." He seemed angry but dazed at the same time.

"I'm going to answer you with a pot of stew over the head if you don't sit down." She smiled at him. It seemed to break him of his daze somewhat. Saying that had been stupid, she thought to herself. She loved him but the man had a temper and she should have known it would set him off. John sat down, still watching her.

"Men are men, John. They flirt with women." Especially exceptionally pretty women, John thought, looking over Anna. How was he ever going to let her out of his sight again? He rubbed his temple.

"I assure you, we're used to it." She took his hand. She gave him a teasing smile. "And I also assure you, my love, I only have eyes for you."

That seemed to do it. He stood up and embraced her, giving her a deep kiss.

"Suddenly I don't feel like stew" he murmured, kissing her neck. She let out a soft moan. It was all he needed. Urgently, he turned them and pushed her back on the kitchen table. "John!" She exclaimed, laughing.

He looked at her hungrily. She knew the look. She reveled in it each time.

"Sorry, m'love, no time like the present" he said smiling at her, already tugging at his buttons.

Jokingly, she rolled her eyes at him, hitching up her skirts. There was no other option, it seemed, but she also wasn't exactly uninterested in the idea. Far from it. She met his hungry look. John already had his shirt off and pressed himself against her. She pulled him to her and wrapped her legs around him.


	4. Chapter 4

The sewing lessons continued. Timothy had gone from a fast learner to an exceptionally slow one.

They had talked again, after. Anna had taken John's hand in hers and looked him in the eyes and implored him to trust her. He had promised. He was resolved to hold his tongue.

The thing was, he did trust her. Completely. That wasn't it. What bothered him was knowing what Timothy was thinking. Watching him undress Anna with his eyes.

John usually tried to be present for the sewing lessons. He knew it annoyed Anna, but being there annoyed him less than dealing with an annoyed Anna. He would pretend to ignore them and read his book until he cleared his throat too many times to interrupt their conversation and Anna would shoot him an angry look. Then he would make his excuses and wander off before he could make it worse.

Looking over his book, occasionally he would see Timothy looking at Anna a bit too intently or slyly watching her bottom if she turned. He gritted his teeth those times. He knew Anna wouldn't believe him if he told her, or would simply tell him again that all women were used to it. Were men really such pigs? It's not like a pretty face never turned his head, but he certainly never leered at anyone. And especially not when her husband was in the same room. When he felt his anger rising he took a deep breath and forced his eyes back to the page.

He knew he was irritating Anna. That was the worst part. She thought he didn't trust her. How could he explain? "He's picturing you naked and I want to kill him for it!" Surely that would not go over well.

* * *

Anna sighed. She was trying to show Timothy how to hem the cuff of a dinner jacket and he wasn't getting it at all. This must have been the fifth time she was showing him. He tried to lighten the mood with little self-depreciating jokes, but every time he said anything John cleared his throat loudly. She wanted to slap them both, frankly. She wanted Timothy to pay attention and she wanted John to leave. What was he even doing here? She resolved to speak to him again. He had promised to hold his tongue, and he had, but actions speak louder than words and his babysitting was not helping. If anything it was probably distracting Timothy.

* * *

Thomas had always been an observer. He noticed little things. Body language. Posture. Roaming eyes. He had kept an eye on Timothy. He was certainly a flirt, and being handsome helped him in that category. It was easy for him.

Thomas had noticed that he flirted with most of the maids. Even Daisy, occasionally. Not Thomas, but he was used to that. He seemed particularly focused on Anna. It wasn't just their stupid sewing lessons. He seemed to watch her more than the others and he acted like Bates didn't exist. Not just that he didn't exist as her husband, like he wasn't even in the room. It was very peculiar.

Thomas knew the type. Hunter. Craving forbidden fruit. The fact that Anna was married made her more appealing to him, not less. Thomas was sure. This could get very interesting, he mused to himself.

* * *

Elsie sighed.

"What is it?" Mr. Carson had come up behind her. She glanced up at him.

"Timothy. I'm not sure of approve of his behavior."

"Mmm." He murmured his agreement in the way he often did.

"Boys will be boys, I suppose."

"Within reason!" he protested. Giving her a serious look, he leaned toward her. "You would tell me if any lines were crossed, I trust?"

She looked at him indignantly. "Of course, Charles."

He grunted. He liked it when she used his first name. But he couldn't very well have her knowing that. He showed no reaction.

"Do you think I should get rid of him?"

Hiring and firing of footmen was exclusively within his purview, with the exception of only Lord Grantham when he cared to weigh in, but he frequently sought her opinion on such matters and seemed to genuinely value it. She appreciated that. He appreciated the opportunity to talk to her in private. And such matters were delicate.

She considered for a minute. "No, I don't think so. Not unless something drastic happens."


	5. Chapter 5

John wandered into the servant's hall. He sat down and tried to read, but it seemed odd to be sitting in the quiet when the garden party was going on outside. He wondered how Anna was doing. And what Timothy was up to. He frowned to himself. Perhaps he would go check on the party after all.

There was a flurry of activity as the main course was served. The maids had been recruited to help Mrs. Patmore and Daisy and were busy loading trays as fast as the footmen could take them. Mrs. Patmore had selected game hen and the staff was grateful. It always took the guests a bit longer to pick around all the tiny bones and it gave the staff a bit of extra time to manage.

John stood off to the side, partially behind a hedge. He wasn't hiding, per say. Merely staying out of the way. Plus he didn't have a dinner jacket on and didn't want to draw attention to himself. He watched Anna move to the side after helping Thomas with an overloaded tray. The guests had drinks and were busy attacking their game hens. John smiled at Anna even though she couldn't see him.

His smile faded into a grimace as Timothy sidled up next to her. He could tell from her body language that she wasn't thrilled with her new company, but she quickly smiled at him politely. John was watching her intently now. He saw her try to step further away from Timothy, but he only sidled closer. "She doesn't like you, buddy boy" he thought to himself.

Timothy crept closer to Anna. He could smell her lavender scent. Anna ignored him and focused on the guests. She was not about to allow him to make a scene at the garden party. He leaned over to whisper a joke into her ear and she smiled despite herself. He smiled back at her, but she quickly recovered and shot him a stern look. They were working and this was not the place for joking.

John watched their exchange, his anger rising. He recognized that Timothy must have whispered a joke to her. He was watching another man flirt with his wife. He clenched and unclenched his fists. He decided that he'd kept his promise and held his tongue long enough. It was time to have a talk with Timmy. He could pick another maid to go after. Anna was off limits.

Lord Grantham looked up from his damned game hen. Why did Mrs. Patmore always seem to make these for parties? He saw Bates on the other side of the tent, striding determinedly. What was Bates doing here? And where the hell was he going?

Timothy had seen Anna's stern look and thought he still saw a flash of a smile play on her lips. He knew this wasn't the place for joking, but he didn't want to let the opportunity slip away just yet. He turned his hands palms-up and gave her his best mea culpa hangdog look. She rolled her eyes at him and now he swore he saw a hint of a smile. He quickly slipped an arm around her waist to give her a squeeze.

Lord Grantham looked at Bates's face. He recognized the expression. He had not seen it in a long time. Rage. This was not good. Not good at all. Where the devil was Carson? He spotted him off to his right, staring off into the distance with a hint of a smile on his face. Lord Grantham craned his head around. Mrs. Hughes was bent over, helping Daisy plate cakes. Carson was enjoying his view.

"Carson!" he hissed. Carson's head snapped forward. He wished the ox of a man would just talk to Mrs. Hughes already. It would clear his head.

Discretely holding his hand to his chest, he pointed at Bates. Carson looked confused for a moment, then turned to look. Their eyes flew open. They both looked up just at the moment that Timothy slipped an arm around Anna and Bates raised his fist.

John was going to have words with Timothy. This was getting ridiculous. Never mind that Anna could handle herself, it was not appropriate for him to flirt with her and especially not appropriate while they were working. He could get Anna sacked. John strode toward them, but they were facing away from him and didn't see him. When he was about five steps away he saw Timothy put his arm around Anna's waist. He saw red. He heard nothing but the blood boiling in his ears.

Anna was shocked. She immediately pulled away and was about to push Timothy in the chest when she saw John. His face was red. She put her arms up to try and stop him. "No, no, no!" He didn't even see her. He dropped his cane and lunged.

Timothy didn't see Bates before he saw the fist. Anna had just pulled away from him and suddenly something was crashing into his nose. He heard a crack and the force sent him reeling backward.

"John!" Anna screamed. The two men tumbled to the ground. John was on top and continued pummeling Timothy. Timothy was writhing and trying to cover his face. Everyone else stood staring, too stunned to move.

Carson was on them in an instant. He roared "stop this AT ONCE." His roar snapped Thomas out of his daze and he lept forward to help Carson pull Bates off Timothy. Anna came running up to them, desperate and holding John's cane.

Carson turned to her. "Get him out of here." She grabbed John by the elbow and they staggered off toward their cottage.


	6. Chapter 6

**Additional chapters should be soon! Comments welcome!**

* * *

Carson turned back to the scene. Mrs Hughes was tending to Timothy, who had blood streaming out of his nose. It was splattered all over his livery, Carson noticed with dismay. He turned to Thomas. "Help Mrs. Hughes get him back to the house." Thomas gave him a quick nod and helped Timothy struggle to his feet.

"Can you walk?" Asked Mrs. Hughes, gingerly.

"I think so" he nodded.

"You stay here, then" she said to Thomas. "Help Mr. Carson with the rest of the party, to the extent there is one" she added, scanning the guests. Most were on their feet, watching the bizarre scene unfold in stunned silence. Most, except Aunt Violet, who had a faint smile playing on her lips. She turned to Lady Grantham. "I didn't know there was to be boxing. How exciting." She smiled. Her Ladyship sighed.

*****l******

"Oh gods, oh gods." John sat with his head in his hands. "She's going to leave me. She's going to tell me to get out and never speak to me again" he thought. Neither of them had said a word on the hurried walk back to the cottage. Once John regained his senses, he was terrified. He had just slugged a man at a garden party! What on earth had come over him? Anna must be mortified. He was mortified.

Surely he would be sacked. Oh gods, what if Lord Grantham sacked both of them? He could not let that happen. He could not take Anna down with him. She deserved better than that. Oh, god. She was surely going to leave him. He pushed his palms into his eyes. He realized he was trembling. He had never felt so scared.

*****l*******

Anna stood in their bedroom. She took a deep breath. When they got to the cottage she had told John to leave her alone for a minute. She needed to catch her breath and process what had just happened. Timothy had wrapped his arm around her. Had he lost his mind? What could he possibly have been thinking? She was married! It was the middle of a damned garden party. For an instant she wished he was in front of her so she could slap him across the face. She was shaking.

Oh god, John. What should she say. She had been tolerating more terrible behavior from Timothy then she had admitted to him. She thought she could handle Timothy and she knew how upset it made him. This was all her fault. She thought she had made it clear to Timothy that she was not interested, but obviously she had failed.

He'd been trying to catch her in the hallways, in the laundry, everywhere. She had always resisted him but he hadn't stopped. She should have told John. He'd never crossed a line like this today, but he'd made his intentions obvious. He would wait for her outside Lady Mary's chambers sometimes, where she couldn't avoid him. The other maids had been whispering and she just wanted him to go away. She had spoken to him sternly to leave her be but it only seemed to interest him more. As if it was some kind of game. She should have told John. She couldn't believe she had let this happen and she was so ashamed. She had to speak to John.

She walked into the parlor. John looked up. His eyes were red. It looked like he had been crying. She rushed to him, taking one of his hands. "Are you hurt?"

John looked confused by her question. "What? No, no. Of course not."

Now Anna looked confused. "Oh Anna, I am so so sorry." He started to cry.

Anna was shocked, confused. "What? He was a leech! He tried to grab me! Oh, John, I should have told you sooner. I'm so sorry. I thought I had made it clear to him that I wasn't interested, but he persisted anyway. I should have told you. This is all my fault. I love you."

It took John a moment to realize what she was saying. Relief washed over him. He could not believe what he was hearing. She wasn't leaving him! She loved him! He started laughing.

Anna looked at him apprehensively. John had apparently gone mad.

"Don't you see?" He kissed her hand. She watched him. "I thought you were going to leave me."

She looked at him and saw immense gratitude in his eyes. He had been scared, she realized. She stepped toward him, pulling him to her.

"For that disastrous leech?" She started laughing too. "He can't even win a decent fight."

John gathered her in his arms. "I love you"

"And I love you"

He kissed her deeply. John's relief was infectious. Anna could not believe she had allowed him to think she wanted to leave him. He was the most important thing in the world to her. She desperately needed him to understand that. And she was so grateful that Timothy had most certainly been taken care of. John had sacrificed everything to defend her.

At that realization she suddenly became incredibly aroused. Breaking their kiss, "_John_" she said breathlessly.

"mmmmmm" he kissed her neck.

"I need you."

He looked up at her for an instant, realizing her meaning. Feeling his arousal.

"Now?"

"Now."


	7. Chapter 7

**More chapters to come. Comments welcome, as always! Feedback is great. Enjoy.**

* * *

John gently pushed Anna down on the sofa. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and dropped it to the floor. Leaning over to kiss her, he pulled at the buttons on her dress. She worked his shirt open and slid it down his back, kissing him all the while. He was kissing her neck now and she was moaning softly. He knew this wouldn't take long but he didn't care. He reached up under her dress and began to pull her stockings off.

* * *

Carson drew himself up to his full height and stood at attention. He was livid but trying to contain his anger. After Bates and Timothy had been taken away the guests seemed rather eager to leave. Lord Grantham was obviously flustered, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. He turned to Carson.

"Tell Bates I will speak with him NOW."

"Yes, my lord" rumbled Carson as he strode off toward the Bates's cottage. He was furiously muttering to himself. What the Devil was Bates thinking? At a _garden party!_ The guests were terrified. Blood everywhere. The family had been shamed. This wasn't a back alley pub where you could just haul off and strike a man!

He was still muttering to himself when he got to the Bates's cottage. He knocked once and threw open the door, bellowing "Mr. Bates!" He was not expecting the scene he found before him.

Bates shot to his feet. He was wearing only his trousers, which were unfastened but thankfully still mostly on. He looked at Anna. Some of the buttons on her dress were undone but she had pushed her skirts back down. She was covered. He was relieved that he'd been in too much of a rush to pull her dress off. Her stockings and knickers lay on the floor.

Carson looked as if he might explode. "_Now?!_" he roared at them. "Of all things! Of all times! You're doing _this _now?!"

John looked at Anna. Was she blushing or was she still flushed? He looked back at Carson. His eyes were bulging and his face was red. He looked like he might scream. John saw Carson look down to the floor, seeing Anna's knickers. It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at. "Gods!" he roared again and spun on his heel to face the wall behind him.

Carson attempted to collect himself, focusing on a spot on the wall. He tightened his jaw. "Mr. Bates, Lord Grantham would like _a word with you_."

"Of course," John stammered,"...I'll be right along." He was pulling on his undershirt and fastening his trousers.

"He would like a word _now_."

"Erm. All right. Just give me a moment."

Carson grunted.

John pondered that Carson was never this gruff with him. He was his superior, of course, but they always had a form of mutual respect for one another. With a pang of guilt he realized just how angry he had made him. "I'm sorry, Charlie" he thought to himself.

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Carson?" Anna offered. Carson hung his head and groaned loudly at the wall. He was trying not to remember what he had just seen and speaking with Anna was not going to help. "I'll wait outside."

John shot Anna a surprised look. She responded with a sly smile. He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and confusion. He waited until Carson closed the door. "Something funny?"

She shrugged. "This has been a most ridiculous day."

"I don't expect Carson wants to sit for tea over your knickers."

"I don't need to have my knickers on to remember my manners." She shot back with mock seriousness, a smile at the corner of her lips.

John laughed softly and shook his head. This had been a most ridiculous day, indeed. Turning serious, he pulled her from the sofa. "I'm sure I'll be sacked. I won't let them sack you."

She leaned her head against his cheek and whispered to him. "If they sack you, then we're both leaving, so it doesn't really matter."

He hugged her to him and she rested her head under his chin. They stood like that for a moment. There was nothing else to say. Releasing her, he kissed her on the forehead and turned toward the door.

Outside, John met Carson and they started walking toward the house.

John wanted to apologize. He was unsure where to begin. "About that, back there, I'm sorry..."

Carson turned his head to glare at him. His face was still red. John swallowed and decided maybe this was not the right time. They walked on toward the house in silence.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rapid chapters this time, the next one is big. Comments/thoughts are fantastic and appreciated. Also constructive criticism is more than welcome. **

* * *

Thomas surveyed the scene. Carson had left him in charge before he stormed off to collect Bates. Jimmy and Molesley were scrambling around, trying to help guests collect their things. Many guests were already packed back in their automobiles and departing. Others were looking around awkwardly, unsure what to do. Lord and Lady Grantham were moving through the crowd, making their apologies. He noticed that a few of the men had settled by the bar and actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. Probably swapping old fight stories from their own youth. Not that Bates was a young man, but usually fistfights were young men's business.

It took all his willpower not to smile. He had to give Bates credit. The man could throw a punch. Timothy was an idiot. He'd been after Anna for months. What did he think would happen? Bates would hand over the keys to the cottage and tell him to have at it? Not likely.

He set off for the bar. He decided to open another bottle of champagne for the story tellers. They were the most interesting of the lot and it's not like the other guests were going to drink it. Carson wouldn't even notice.

* * *

Elsie stood up. Timothy had gone upstairs to wash up. She suspected his livery was a loss, but one of the maids had taken it to the laundry to try and scrub the blood out. Once they got away from the others he had stormed off ahead of her. She had tried to summon Dr. Clarkson, but Timothy refused to allow it. Apparently this was not the first time he had been punched in the nose, she was dismayed but unsurprised to have learned. She doubted they would see him again tonight.

Everyone else was outside cleaning up the garden party. Elsie made her way upstairs. She found him pacing outside of Lord Grantham's library. He hadn't heard her approach. She waited a moment for him to reach the end of the hall and turn back. Then he saw her.

She was slightly startled when she saw his face but did not show it. Charles's eyebrows were knitted and his face was red. She saw a vein bulging in his forehead that she had never seen before. She realized that this was the angriest she had ever seen him. He stopped and stared at her. His anger wasn't directed at her; it was just something that he held. But he couldn't. He had already had one scare. He couldn't let the stress get to him like this.

She heard shouting coming from the library. Lord Grantham's voice. She realized Mr. Bates must be in there. She walked toward him. "Charles" she said softly.

He was breathing heavily. She pondered whether she would physically be able to move him if he collapsed. He was a rather large man. "Charles" she said again. Slightly louder. It annoyed him. The vein bulged.

She moved closer to him. She sensed him relax slightly. "So?" she asked, inclining her head toward the library door.

"His Lordship is speaking with Mr. Bates." He practically spat out Bates's name. She took a breath. He really needed to calm down. She was worried about him. She considered what to say. She thought he might slap her hand away if she tried to touch him.

"Well... I do think it's one for the record books." She let her Scottish brogue accentuate. She suspected he liked her accent. He snorted but his shoulders relaxed a little. Good. "What's to come of Mr. Bates then?"

"What do you think?" he hissed. Not good. More shouting from the Library.

She stepped closer to him. Now she was only inches away. He remained stiff but eyed her apprehensively. "Charles." Practically a whisper. She put her hand on his chest. This was the most intimate they had ever been. He stared at her intently but did not object. She felt him relax under her touch. Part of her hoped that he would wrap his arms around her, but that was probably too much to expect for this day.

She looked into his eyes. She did not see anger now. Only curiosity. Interestingly absent was surprise. He looked like he was waiting for her to say something. She spoke softly, slowly. "What would you have done," she paused, "if a footman put his arm around my waist."

His eyes flew open and he pulled away from her, stiffening. He opened his mouth to protest. "I would never...!" She watched him, patiently. He trailed off, still looking at her. His shoulders slumped. He looked away, thinking. After a few moments, he sighed reluctantly. "I would have done the same."

She smiled at him. He looked tired. "Well then" she said, nodding in the direction of the library door.

"_What?_"

Frustrated, she gathered her Scottish fire back. "You're going to let Mr. Bates take all this, then?"

"_What am I to do about it?_"

She glared at him.

"Gods." He headed toward the library door. Glaring at her, he knocked once and went in. No use worrying about interrupting. At least this time Bates would have his bloody trousers on.


	9. Chapter 9

"Gods, she could be impossible." He could still feel where she had placed her hand on his chest. On his heart. It felt warm. It felt... soothing. He had been about to explode before she appeared. Just seeing her calmed him. He had not expected her to touch him, but when she did he suddenly couldn't remember anything else. Well, there was no turning back now. "_In for a penny, in for a pound_" he thought as he opened the door.

Lord Grantham stared at him with his mouth agape. Had all the staff gone mad today? Bates was throwing punches and now Carson was barging into rooms uninvited. Lord Grantham was obviously frustrated. He was not a man that angered easily. He wasn't prone to rage, like Bates. His anger manifested as agitation. He almost never lost his temper completely. Carson was relieved to see that he didn't seem to have lost his temper on this occasion. "My Lord." He bowed his head.

* * *

Lord Grantham was grateful that most of the guests dispersed quickly. Somehow a few of the men had managed to get rather drunk. He wondered if that was before or after Bates's ludicrous display. Bates. What the hell had he been thinking? Cora was furious. Lord Grantham sighed. He tried to sound sincere in his apologies but his thoughts were focused inward. He looked at Cora. She was glaring at him. She could tell he was distracted. When they had a moment alone she gave him an order. "Go handle this."

"I can't leave the guests." Smiling outwardly as someone approached them. Shaking hands. Only a handful of people remained.

"I will make your excuses and finish up here. I don't imagine anyone is going to expect an after dinner drink now."

He walked over to Thomas. "Make sure everything is taken care of. No one retires tonight until this is all cleaned up." He glanced at the drunken men by the bar. Were they bloody singing? "All."

Thomas stared straight ahead and gave a curt nod. "Understood."

When he got to the library Carson was pacing outside. "I told him to wait for you inside, My Lord. I did not feel it was my place to handle this particular matter."

Gods, Carson must have been too angry to speak. That was a first. He took a deep breath and walked into the library.

* * *

Bates was waiting. The adrenaline had worn off and now he was feeling the effects. His leg throbbed but he dare not sit down. He stood and stared out the window. Nothing to do now but wait. He tried not to think about what was going to happen. He thought about Anna.

* * *

Lord Grantham walked in and glared at him. Bates glanced at his face before looking back at the floor. He kept his eyes down. He could not read Lord Grantham's expression. His heart was hammering in his chest.

Lord Grantham took a deep breath and looked toward the window. "Bates. What the devil were you think..."

John couldn't help himself. He cut him off. "My Lord, He grabbed her!" he turned to face him. "I have been watching him for months! Months! He's been after Anna at every turn!" Bates was nearly shouting now.

His defense set off Lord Grantham. This was not to be tolerated. He wheeled on Bates, his anger flaring.

"_And you think that gives you the right to attack a man at my blasted Garden party?_"

Lord Grantham was shouting at the top of his lungs now. It startled Bates into remembering his position. "No, of course not, my lord."

"_Cora is furious. I am furious. All of England is going to be talking about this come morning! Do you know how embarrassing this is?_"

He was still shouting. Bates swallowed and looked down.

Lowering his voice, Lord Grantham sighed and turned toward the window. "Bates, I saw it too. But you have put me in a most difficult position."

"Please, My Lord, I know that I..."

"That you _what_?" Angry again. "_Disappointed me?_" He snorted sarcastically. "_That is hardly even the beginning!_"

John felt his chest tighten. This was not going well. How was he ever going to be able to support Anna? Oh god. For a moment he felt like he might sob.

Lord Grantham took a deep breath. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Bates?"

It was rhetorical. John didn't look up. He was afraid to open his mouth. Afraid Lord Grantham would hear his voice quivering.

Then suddenly Carson walked in.

* * *

Bates looked at him, surprised. It was unlike Carson to barge in on Lord Grantham. Very much unlike him. He was obviously furious at John when they walked up here. For a moment he wondered if he intended to join Lord Grantham in berating him. "Let's all have a go" he thought to himself sarcastically. He sighed and looked back down at the floor.

"My Lord" began Carson. His voice seemed odd for some reason. Too calm? John looked back up at him. He had a most peculiar expression on his face. He looked... tired? Was is nervous? John couldn't figure it. He looked back to Lord Grantham.

Lord Grantham looked exasperated, fed up. He thought he might turn on Carson. Well, this day was nothing if not interesting. He wondered how Anna was doing.

Carson put a hand out. "I know I should not be interrupting you like this, but..."

"Bloody well right." Lord Grantham snapped, but he was looking at Carson curiously. Only a few minutes ago Carson looked to be ready to throttle somebody. Bates, most likely. Now he looked... apologetic. What in the blasted hell was going on?

Carson took a deep breath. "My Lord, I was thinking..."

Bates stared at him. Was he about to defend him? This was a surprising turn of events. He looked to Lord Grantham. Lord Grantham looked just as confused and curious as John as to what Carson was about to say. They both stood waiting for Carson to speak.

Carson breathed again and seemed to make a decision. Pulling himself to his full height, he stood at rigid attention and announced "If put in a similar situation, that is to say..." he paused, John heard the grandfather clock tick, "if any man were to take unwelcome advantage..."

Lord Grantham interrupted him. "Spit it out, Carson."

Carson turned and looked Lord Grantham in the eye. "If a footman were to wrap his arms around Mrs. Hughes, I do believe I would act in much the same way as Mr. Bates."

John and Lord Grantham stood in stunned silence. John could not believe what he was hearing. Had Carson just confessed to loving Mrs. Hughes? _At this moment_? This was incredibly out of character for him. John had the sudden urge to laugh. He looked at Lord Grantham. His mouth was hanging open and he was staring at Carson. Carson was staring straight ahead.

After a long pause, Carson continued. "And I might imagine... that if some other Lord or Duke were to make unwelcome advances at her Ladyship..."

This could not possibly be happening. John was shocked but also found it oddly hilarious.

"...you, My Lord, would be most unhappy indeed, and might even forget yourself for a moment as well."

Lord Grantham was staring at Carson. He seemed too stunned to speak.

Drawing himself up, Carson finished, "Unless, of course, your Lordship preferred that I handle the situation, in which case I would punch him for you."

John could not contain himself. He let out a snort of laughter. Lord Grantham turned and blinked at him. John's shoulders were shaking. He bit down on his lip, but it was too much. He started laughing.

Lord Grantham looked like he could not contemplate what was going on. Carson glared at John. He had just bared his soul, as far as he was concerned, and the man was laughing at him!

Suddenly Lord Grantham let out a chuckle. John was laughing harder now and Lord Grantham started laughing too. This entire situation was so absurd. He supposed Carson was right. They were all no better than a bunch of back alley brawlers when it came to their women. It could have been any one of them.

Carson looked flustered. Still laughing, Lord Grantham clapped him on the back. "Well done. I expect it felt good to get that off your chest. I do hope you've shared the good news with Mrs. Hughes."

Carson looked relieved. He raised his eyebrows. "She told me to say it, actually."

John and Lord Grantham started laughing again.

Lord Grantham nodded at Carson, smiling broadly. "That's very well, very well indeed. And I suppose you're right, except I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles."

"I didn't mean..." Carson started.

Lord Grantham put his hands up to indicate that he was only joking. He turned to John. "Alright Bates, I suppose you get a pass on this one, but don't go tackling any more footmen."

"I will do my best, my Lord."

"I suppose I should have a chat with Timothy, but perhaps not today."

Carson agreed. "Mrs. Hughes informed me that he refused to see Dr. Clarkson, but that there seemed to be no permanent damage."

"Good then." Lord Grantham nodded. "Tomorrow."


	10. Chapter 10

**On we go, everyone. Thank you for the comments - they really do motivate. The last one inspired me to let you all know - as a very rough estimate I think we have about ten more chapters to come. I know where we're going but I'm still working out exactly how we're going to get there. We have a bit of a rabbit hole to get through and it's not very sunny. So stay tuned!**

* * *

"_You told him what?!_"

Elsie was shouting at him. This was not at all how he expected this conversation to go. He was flustered and pleading with her.

"That's what you told me to tell him!"

"_It is not!_"

* * *

After meeting with Lord Grantham, Carson and Bates had stepped out into the hallway together. Bates had smiled at him in earnest and told him "I'm happy for you, Charlie." He was too glad to even take offense at Mr. Bates using his nickname. He had smiled back and nodded. Pointing his cane in the direction of the servant's stairs, John had added "I'm sure she's expecting a full report. You ought to get to it."

Carson nodded. "Yes, I'm sure." He was about to add a comment to Mr. Bates about wishing Anna well and hoping that she was alright after the day's events, but he suddenly remembered her knickers on the floor. Anna was like a daughter to him. _That_ was a thought that made him rather uncomfortable and he squirmed for a moment. Instead he settled on "I'll be off" and he and Mr. Bates set off in opposite directions.

He saw Mrs. Hughes in the servant's hall, helping direct the maids and footmen about where to put various items recovered from the garden party. They made eye contact and he gave her a discreet smile. She responded with a puzzled expression, but subtly smiled back. He announced, too loudly, that he was going to go manage the silver and that everyone should continue cleaning up. The maids and footmen, who hadn't even noticed his arrival until his baritone rang over them, slumped their shoulders and hurried on.

He skipped the silver, the silver cabinet was on the same floor as the servants quarters, and went down to the wine cellar. Down there was a large room with the wine and a desk where he sat to record the deliveries in a broad ledger. He puttered over the ledger for a moment, absentmindedly noting that there were to be two deliveries next week and he would have to make room in the stores. She was not long behind him.

He looked up at Elsie as she entered and gave her a satisfied smile. She seemed apprehensive. He was expecting her to be happy with the situation and was surprised at her restraint.

"How did it go, then?"

"Rather good, actually."

She waited for him to continue.

"When I went in, I told his Lordship that I would have done the same for you and expected that he would have done the same for her Ladyship. He agreed and Mr. Bates is not to be punished."

"_You told him what?!_"

He was startled and confused. He looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face. "That's what you told me to tell him!"

"_It is not!_ I never told you to tell him that!"

"But you said…"

She cut him off. "You could have used a _hypothetical!_" Her brogue emphasized hypothetical. For a second he thought about how he liked it. "I didn't mean for _you_ to tell him that you would have done that for _me_."

She thought about how she had seen Lord Grantham in the parlor as they were cleaning up. He had smiled at her broadly. It was odd of him, but she had smiled back briefly. She sighed and shook her head, realizing he had known.

Carson was exasperated. He had never intended to embarrass her. He felt terrible. "I thought you wanted me to tell him. I would never have done it if I didn't think you wanted it, love."

He didn't know what he was saying until he heard his own voice in his ears. Love. He had called her love. She looked at him suddenly. His eyes widened and he stiffened. He hadn't intended to. She turned away from him. He had made it awkward. He was frantically apologizing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

She was walking away. He didn't know what to do. Frustrated, he gave a loud sigh and looked down at his feet. He heard her lock the door.

"So that's it then, is it?" she asked him.

His mind was scrambling to come up with some sort of sensible reply. Looking up to meet her gaze, he stopped thinking. He paused and she saw him relax, surrender. "For years," he said, looking at her, "I never knew you knew."

"Of course I knew"

She crossed back to him. He was sitting on the edge of the desk. She took his hands in hers and he watched her, reverently. She was looking down. Pulling on his hands, she moved closer to him, until they were almost touching. Only then did she look up at him. She found the same look she had seen earlier. Curiosity. He was waiting for her. She could feel his breath on her face. His eyes were patient and kind. She looked up to kiss him.

* * *

Anna reached out to smooth John's hair. They had finally managed to finish what Carson interrupted. When John got back to the cottage and told her he wasn't being sacked she was so elated. She knew she would stay with him forever, but she had to admit the idea of being thrown out of Downton was daunting. It would not be easy for them to manage to make a living elsewhere and likely impossible for them to be as comfortable as they were here.

As John traced lazy circles around her stomach, her thoughts drifted to Timothy. "John?"

"mmm." He looked to be half asleep.

"What's to become of Timothy then?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her intently. "He'll be sacked, I'm sure. Lord Grantham said he would speak with him tomorrow."

"But did he say he would definitely sack him?"

John propped himself up on his elbow to look at her. "I can't imagine what else he would do." He paused. "Why?"

"It's just... I don't ever want to see him again." He sensed a touch of fear in her voice and in her eyes. He furrowed his brow at her.

"There's nothing you're not telling me?"

She regained her composure, smiled, and pulled him toward her to kiss him. "Of course not, I told you everything." After he returned from the house she had told him about Timothy's other advances and about her efforts to rebuff him and tell him flatly that she was not interested.

John had actually looked relieved. He was furious at Timothy, of course, but he was also still embarrassed about the scene he had made at the party. As she told him about Timothy's lecherous behavior that took place out of John's sight, he realized that he had not been overreacting all this time. All of his instincts had been right. He was somewhat irritated that she hadn't told him sooner, but mostly relieved that he had taken care of the situation.

He returned her kiss and pulled her to him tightly. She wrapped one of her legs around him. Perhaps they didn't need to go to sleep just yet. She pulled him toward her as she shifted to her back.

She had told him almost everything.

* * *

Timothy looked in the mirror. He had washed the blood off, but now he was quickly developing two large black eyes. He tensed his mouth and washed his face. He touched his nose gingerly. Pain shot through him as he pushed along the ridge.

Gritting his teeth, he put his palms on either side and pushed. He heard a crack and felt blinding white pain for an instant. He grabbed the edge of the sink to steady himself. He glowered at the mirror and turned to go back to bed.


	11. Chapter 11

Lord Grantham had told him that he and Anna should take the morning off. He protested but his Lordship insisted. Still, he did not feel that he had bought himself a vacation with his behavior, so he and Anna walked up to the house shortly after breakfast. He had a few things to take care of and Anna didn't like leaving extra work for the other maids to have to pick up.

As they walked through the back door, Carson looked startled to see them. John gave him a puzzled look. "Good morning, Mr. Carson."

Carson stammered something just as Timothy appeared. Anna gave a little gasp and John instinctively stepped in front of her. Timothy looked awful. He had two dark black eyes. John stared at him with contempt, assessing his handiwork. Timothy looked back at John with something more than contempt. Rage. Carson turned to Timothy. "Come along now, his Lordship is waiting."

Carson remained where he stood, however. He was standing between Timothy and John and seemed unsure if he should move, his eyes darting between the two men. He turned his back to John and indicated to Timothy to go ahead of him.

John let out the breath he had not realized he'd been holding. He looked at Anna. She gripped his hand tightly and forced a small smile. She gave him a determined look. He realized coming to the house had been a mistake. They should have waited until Timothy was gone.

* * *

Carson escorted Timothy to Lord Grantham's library and waited outside. Ordinarily he would participate in the hiring and firing of staff, but he thought Lord Grantham might want to have a private word with Timothy.

* * *

Lord Grantham eyed Timothy for a moment. He considered where to begin. "As I'm sure you are aware, your behavior yesterday was unacceptable." Timothy showed no reaction. "In this house we expect everyone to be respectful as we hold the propriety of this house in the highest regard."

"I understand, my Lord." Timothy stared straight ahead. His voice was flat, unemotional. "My actions yesterday were thoroughly out of line and shall never be repeated."

Before Lord Grantham could respond, he continued abruptly. "Do you recall Jane Moorsum, my Lord? She used to work here. We grew up near one another and I think of her like a sister. Before I came to Downton I spoke with her, to ask her what it was like to work here. She told me that everyone here was highly respectful. Everyone from your Lordship down to the lowly maids." He paused. "She had nothing but good things to say about the house. And about yourself, my Lord."

Lord Grantham eyed him, concealing his reaction. Of course he remembered Jane. Their affair had been brief and Cora had never found out. He was still paying for her son's education. Was Timothy threatening him?

Unprompted, Timothy went on. "That is to say, my Lord, I know the reputation of the house comes before all else. I am ashamed of my actions and should not repeat them."

"Yes, yes..." Lord Grantham began. He supposed it could be an innocent story, a tremendous coincidence. But if that was the case then why wouldn't Timothy have mentioned it before? He considered her like a sister. What had Jane told him? He quickly realized the situation he was in.

"Well then," Lord Grantham continued, "I understand that mistakes can sometimes be made...it sounds as if you've thought on the gravity of your actions and understand the severity of it." He looked at Timothy. He showed no reaction or emotion and only stared straight ahead.

Feeling uneasy, Lord Grantham finished. "I accept your apology and trust that nothing like this will ever happen again." He called for Carson.

* * *

Carson was flabbergasted. Lord Grantham instructed him that Timothy was very sorry for what he had done and had assured him that it would not happen again. Timothy was to get to work at once but should be kept away from guests until his eyes had an opportunity to heal.

Carson was speechless. He stood in a daze. "Carson!" Lord Grantham uttered once before he shook his head in acknowledgement. "Of course, my Lord, I will find work downstairs for Timothy to attend to."

Carson looked at Timothy. Timothy showed no reaction. His face was a mask. Before they turned to go, Lord Grantham turned to Timothy. "There will be no second chances on this." Timothy nodded curtly.

They headed for the servants hall. Carson felt he should escort him in case Mr. Bates was there.

* * *

"_What?!_" John was angry, incredulous.

When they returned to the servants' quarters, Timothy had told Carson that he knew he was supposed to get to work but that he was still rather exhausted from everything. He still showed no emotion. Carson was relieved to be rid of him for the time being and sent him up to his room.  
He found John out back, shining shoes. When he saw him, John stopped and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

Carson looked around furtively. He didn't see Anna. "Perhaps we should talk in my office." John eyed him with suspicion.

When he told him, John was furious, as he would have been.

"_I don't understand_." John was frustrated and angry.

"I don't either. I wasn't in the room."

"_He apologized and that was that?_" John felt deeply betrayed. Despite his reluctance to admit it, the house was like his family and Timothy was an interloper who had come after his wife. He had expected them to stand behind him. Timothy should have been sacked.

"Apparently. In any event, he's staying for now. I shall have a stern talk with him." He turned and stared intently, but not unkindly at John. "But I also need assurances that this sort of thing is not going to continue."

John realized he was being lectured. He snorted sarcastically. "So I should just stand back and let him have a go at Anna? Is that it?"

"No. I shall make sure he understands that this type of behavior is strictly forbidden from here on."

John felt defeated. He cast an angry look at Carson and headed for the door.


	12. Chapter 12

For a few months, life resumed in the relatively normal sense. At first there had been palpable tension around the servant's table, but it had faded. John and Timothy mostly ignored one another. On the occasion that John caught Timothy's eye, he was met with a cold, flat stare. John would return the same look. He thought he saw rage flickering in Timothy's eyes sometimes, but he put it out of his mind. Timothy seemed to be ignoring Anna completely, to John's relief.

He watched them sometimes. Knowing that so much had taken place outside his gaze before still made him uneasy if he let himself think about it. He asked Anna frequently whether he was bothering her any more and she seemed to be getting irritated with the constant inquiry. She assured him she would tell him immediately if anything happened.

Still, John was curious. He would wait sometimes where he could see them near one another. Where they might pass in the hall or during the bustle as everyone collected for tea. Timothy acted like he couldn't even see Anna. Like she was a ghost to him. Once he had seen Anna nearly bump into him, focused on a dress she was carrying. Timothy had gingerly stepped aside and never even turned his head. As a reflex, she apologized before she realized who she had almost walked into and he ignored it.

It made John uneasy but he told himself to let it go. The man had apparently learned his lesson and he should be grateful. He would watch Anna too. When they were near each other and Timothy pointedly ignored her, she would look after him sometimes. Turn to look back at him as he passed her in a hall or glance up at him as they nearly rubbed shoulders crowding into the servant's hall, a puzzled expression on her face. He supposed it must be odd, to become invisible to someone.

* * *

Anna chewed on her thumb and read the letter again. She was standing in Lady Mary's chambers. Lady Mary had gone down and this was one of the few places where she could expect complete privacy.

She let the words wash over her. She was beautiful. Special. He adored her. His heart was hers. The letters from Timothy had started a few weeks before the garden party. At first they were notes, really, not letters. He would tuck them where he knew she would find them. Inside the clean sheets for Lady Mary's room by the laundry or in her apron pocket as it hung in the hall.

The first were only a few words. "You are breathtakingly beautiful." "Know I will adore you always." She had initially been startled, but she found herself looking forward to them.

She had never been wooed like this before. With such detail. She and John had been the pictures of restraint before they were married. And anyway, John wasn't one to pour his heart out in words. It didn't make her love him any less, but it just wasn't his way. This was completely different. She knew it wasn't right but she was drawn to the words on the page.

When she told John about everything Timothy had done, she hadn't intended not to tell him about the letters. She just hadn't. She only had a few at that point and she didn't even realize her omission until later. She tried to rationalize it, telling herself it would only upset him, but even she knew it wasn't right to conceal it from him. She simply stopped thinking about it.

She read the letter again. He was begging her to leave John, to go away with him. He would love her always. They could move abroad.

The notes had turned to letters and had gotten increasingly graphic. He told her about wanting to smell her hair and touch her breasts. He told her more than that and it made her blush. It was addicting to her.

On the days she received one of those letters, she would ravish John when they got back to the cottage. It awakened something in her and was deeply arousing. She could hardly wait to get home on those days. John could sense her need, but had no idea why. She would look at him hungrily across the servants hall and he would rush to finish up his work.

The fact that Timothy ignored her only increased her arousal. Almost never over the past several months had she found herself completely alone with him and, even then, he still had only barely acknowledged her. Once had been in the front hall of the house. He appeared around the corner as she was coming down the stairs. She froze on the landing and looked at him. He had flashed a small wicked smile at her and let his eyes drift down her dress, but quickly strode away. She had felt herself flush.

In this letter he was telling her he could not wait to be with her, to feel her taste on his tongue. He told her how he took himself in his hand and thought of her. She could feel the heat rising up her neck. She had to find John.


	13. Chapter 13

John strolled around the village. He had come to pick up a jacket that was being delivered for Lord Grantham, but he was early and the train wasn't expected just yet. It was a late delivery and the shops were just about to close.

He found himself in front of a small ladies' wear shop. Various dresses and jackets in the latest style hung in the window. Looking past them, he saw a small stand on the counter with necklaces. He went in.

He smiled at the woman behind the counter and peered at the necklaces. One was a small silver locket with a delicate silver chain. He turned it over in his hand. On the back, in tiny letters, it was engraved. "For my love." He smiled. It was perfect. He paid the woman and she gingerly put the locket in a little jewelry box for him. There was no special occasion, he just wanted to surprise her.

* * *

John rode in a cart back to the house. The train had been late and the sun was setting. One of the maintenance men had been picking up some items from the same train and had offered John a lift. He patted his pocket with the jewelry box in it and smiled to himself.

He dropped off the jacket and stopped in the hall. The footmen and Carson were attending to dinner and the maids were working upstairs. They had several guests coming the following day and the maids would be busy fairly late tonight getting the rooms ready. He decided to head home to the cottage.

* * *

He pondered what to do with the locket. He wanted to surprise her. He decided to hide it and let her discover it. Heading upstairs, he knew what he would do. Carefully, he opened the middle drawer of her dressing stand. He was surprised to find a pile of letters. Each envelope said only "Anna." There was no address. For a moment he stared at them curiously.

Without thinking, he picked up the first one and opened it. The color drained out of his face. He picked up another, and then another. His hands were shaking. He could feel his heart pounding. His mind went blank. Picking up the entire stack, he turned to go downstairs.

He dropped the stack on the kitchen table and went outside. He walked to one of the neighboring cottages. A chauffeur lived here. He was at the house, waiting for the guests to finish dinner. His wife was away visiting family. John tried the door. It was unlocked. He went in.

He looked around the kitchen. On the counter next to the stove was an open bottle of whiskey. It was half empty. He turned around and opened the pantry. On a lower shelf he found what he was looking for. He took the full bottle of whiskey and turned to the front door.

Stepping into the moonlight, he uncorked the bottle and took a long swallow. His mind was still blank. He walked back to their cottage.

* * *

Anna was exhausted. They had made up nearly a dozen rooms that day, plus had to assemble extra cots in the servants' quarters. She finished her dinner quickly and left for the cottage. She assumed John had already gone down.

Opening the front door, she saw that the parlor was dark and the fire nearly out. She saw a light coming from the kitchen. "John?" she called tentatively.

She turned into the kitchen. John was sitting at the table. His collar was open and his hair was mussed. His eyes were red and glassy. He stared at her, expressionless. "John!" she exclaimed, noticing the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table. She looked back at him, confused and startled. "What are you doing..." She gasped, interrupting herself. Her hand flew to cover her mouth and her eyes widened. She realized what the whiskey bottle was sitting on. The table was covered with Timothy's letters. There were dozens of them. They were all open.

She froze. Slowly, she looked back at John. He was still staring at her. His expression was blank. She looked at his eyes. They were focused on her, but were distant. There was no light in them. The sparkle she usually saw was gone.

"I was going to surprise you." He said, looking down at the table. She followed his gaze and noticed a silver locket on top of one of the letters. She felt tears in her eyes.

"Turns out I'm the one surprised." He said flatly. He stood up. Casting her the same blank look, he took the whiskey bottle by the neck and brushed past her. Ignoring his cane, he limped out the front door.

Anna started frantically gathering up the letters, fighting back tears. She got to the one with the locket on it. It was a particularly explicit one. Picking up the locket, she collapsed into one of the chairs and began to sob.

* * *

She eyed the pile of letters. She didn't know what to do with them. Somehow she knew she shouldn't get rid of them yet. It would have to be up to John. He had left almost two hours ago. She still sat in the kitchen, nervously rubbing the locket in her hands. She was incredibly scared.

After waiting another half hour, she stood up. She realized he wasn't coming back tonight. She chewed on her thumb and tried to think. She didn't think he would go to Carson like this. He always insisted on handling things himself.

She had an idea. She went to the front closet and pulled out his overcoat and a blanket. Remembering, she retrieved his cane from the kitchen and went out the front door.

Stepping into the moonlight, she headed for the gardens. There was an older part of the garden on the far side. It was seldom used and had become overgrown. Tucked in a back corner in what used to be a courtyard was a wide cement bench. Years ago, back when she and John were secretly courting, they used to come here. It gave them privacy and there was just enough room for both of them to lay on the bench. They would hold each other and look at the stars.

Coming around the corner, she pushed a branch out of her way and saw him. He was passed out on the bench. The whiskey bottle lay on the ground beside him. She was relieved to notice that some of it had spilled. At least he had not finished it all. She could see that he had been sick. She thought she could not cry any more tonight but she felt tears spring to her eyes. Weeping softly, she spread the blanket over him. She wrapped herself in his overcoat and lay down beside him. She listened to his ragged breathing and sobbed herself to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Anna awoke as the sun peeked over the hedges. She looked over at John. He was still asleep but had pulled the blanket tightly around him. She got up and walked over to the dilapidated gardener's shed. She remembered an old water pump near the shed and wondered if it still worked. Inside the shed she found a mostly clean ceramic mug and rubbed the dust off with the hem of her dress. Going back outside, she picked up a bucket filled with rainwater. Using the rainwater to prime the water pump, she pulled and pushed at the handle until it sputtered to life and clean water began to pour out. She filled the mug. She knew John would need it.

Walking back to the bench, she sat and looked at John. She smoothed his hair and kissed him on the forehead. "I'm so so sorry" she whispered to him. He murmured in his sleep and she began to cry.

John awoke slowly. When he opened his eyes, blinking, it took him a moment to remember where he was. To remember the night before. He remembered reading the letters. He didn't remember anything after that. He groaned before he realized Anna was sitting next to him. Stopping mid-groan, he stared at her for a moment, then looked back to the sky. Neither said anything. After a few minutes, he turned and sat up. The movement made his head throb. Anna held a mug of water out to him. He looked at the mug, then abruptly staggered away and vomited in the bushes.

Wiping his face with his handkerchief, he sat back down heavily. He took the mug from Anna and took a sip. He looked unsure whether he would be able to keep it down. They sat like that for a while, in silence. Anna looked at John, John stared at the ground.

After a while, John stood up. Handing him his cane, Anna gave him a pleading look. "Can we please talk about this?"

He looked at her with no expression and walked away.

* * *

John's drinking continued. Not at work, not during the day. But at night when he and Anna got back to the cottage, he would resume. She realized he was using it to avoid her. For a few days he said nothing to her at all, except for a few perfunctory responses in the servants hall where his silence would have been noted by the others. They had always refrained from being emotional or physically affectionate at work, so it did not seem overly out of the ordinary. The ones who knew them best, however, noticed. Mrs. Hughes could tell that Anna was upset. Thomas noted that Bates was more distant even than usual, which was saying a lot for the man. He was curious.

She wished he would say something. Anything. She wished he would be angry with her, yell at her, curse her, scream at her that she had betrayed him. What he was instead was worse. She was terrified. His silence continued.

A few days later she found another letter from Timothy. She put it in her pocket. When they got home she pulled it out and handed it to John, unopened. "I found this today. In the laundry." He stared at the note in his hand. She waited for him to say something. Instead, he turned and dropped the envelope on top of the pile of letters. They were still sitting on the kitchen table. Anna had thought she might make things worse if she did anything with them and John had left them there. She saw him looking at them sometimes. Not opening them, just staring at the pile. It was her scarlet letter.

"_Please tell me what to do_." Her eyes were pleading, filled with tears. "About Timothy, what do you want me to…" At the sound of his name he suddenly shot her a look. She tried to read his face. She couldn't. He wasn't angry. He wasn't upset. He just looked at her with wide, vacant eyes.

She sighed and looked at the floor. John walked past her and uncorked the whiskey.

* * *

This went on. Every time she found a letter, she would give it to John, unopened. He would add it to the pile. She didn't know, but he would check each day to make sure she hadn't opened the new letters. They all remained sealed.

She didn't know what to do. She had hissed at Timothy in the servants' hall to stop writing her letters, but he had ignored her and they kept appearing. She was so overwhelmingly embarrassed that she had allowed it to continue as long as it did, she didn't want to tell anyone, particularly Mrs. Hughes or Carson. She desperately wished John would tell her what he wanted her to do, but he wasn't speaking to her. If he had told her to confess, she would have, in an instant. But every time she tried to talk to him, to ask him, to plead with him, he told her nothing. She gave him every new letter, he knew they were still coming. But he wouldn't tell her what to do.

When they were alone, Anna begged him to talk to her. The first morning, after they slept on the bench in the garden, she had followed John back to the cottage, begging her excuses at him. "I never loved him! I didn't even _like _him! I don't know why he wrote to me! I never wrote him back, _never_." At that John had stopped and stared at her for a moment. She was out of breath.

She continued. "There was nothing, _nothing _between us ever. I told you everything! I told you I told him to leave me alone." John looked away from her then and continued up the path.

* * *

Mrs. Hughes peeked into Lady Mary's bedroom. Anna was making up the bed. Her eyes were red and swollen as she pulled the sheets tight. Mrs. Hughes stepped in.

Anna looked startled. She straightened quickly and tried to wipe her eyes with her hand, but the redness could not be wiped away. Mrs. Hughes looked at her kindly. She thought of Anna as a daughter, of sorts. She crossed to Anna until they were standing together. She spoke softly. "I hope you know that you can talk to me." Anna sniffled. "Is everything alright?"

Anna broke into a sob. She fell into Mrs. Hughes' embrace. Elsie let her sob there for a moment, the two women standing together, Anna's head against her shoulder. She held her tightly and felt her chest heave up and down.

"What happened?" Mrs. Hughes looked at Anna tenderly.

"It's my fault." Anna started.

Mrs. Hughes looked incredulous for a second. "I'm sure it's not."

"No. It is." Anna looked down at her hands.

Growing more concerned, Mrs. Hughes leaned toward Anna. They were sitting at Lady Mary's dressing table. She placed her hand over Anna's.

Anna looked up at her. Mrs. Hughes looked at her imploringly, but patiently. Anna let out a deep breath and told her everything.

* * *

Carson walked over to Elsie in the servants' hall. The staff was beginning to scatter for evening duties. She had given the maids their assignments and the footmen were readying for dinner. It was a time when they both usually gathered by the board together to oversee and be ready for any inquiries that the staff had. He stood slightly closer to her than he used to, but he didn't think anyone noticed.

She looked troubled. He frowned at her but she did not meet his eye. Too many people still bustling around the servants' hall. He would ask her later. He smiled to himself, but did not show it. After they had kissed in the wine cellar… well, more than kissed, really. It had turned into a bit of a young person's groping session, to be honest. He remembered with a smile. Things had progressed rather quickly. Elsie confessed to loving him back and, well, they were both older so pregnancy was not an issue. It gave them a certain freedom. Which he was _very_ much pleased to learn that Elsie was as enthusiastic about as he was.

Bending down slightly, he whispered to her. "Will I see you tonight?"

"Yes." She murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

That was all he needed for the time being. He strode off to attend to dinner.

* * *

After all the staff had gone to bed, Charles absentmindedly looked at is book and waited for her. It didn't take long. She opened his door quietly, sliding in and closing it softly behind her. She was wearing her nightgown and robe. He admired her for a moment, a small smile playing at his lips. He looked at her eyes, the trouble was still there.

Before this night, every time she had come to him they had been hurried. Always worried about being discovered by other staff, their lovemaking was rushed, quiet. It was extraordinarily passionate between them, but they had to be discreet. Still, he was ecstatic. He felt happy and fortunate. Sometimes it physically took all of his self-control not to wrap his arms around her when they stood near each other at work.

Tonight, something else seemed more important. Her pained expression concerned him. He sat up. "What is it?" He asked her, gently. He sensed that this was not about him.

Elsie gave him a tender look, but it was laced with sadness. "I promised not to tell."

He watched her face. She was obviously puzzling over something, something she was unsure about, and was debating whether to tell him. Her eyebrows were knitted together and she was gently biting on her lip.

He thought about his words carefully. "I'm not your husband, but some day I hope to be." He paused, still looking at her. "In which case, I wish that you would know that you can tell me whatever is on your mind, always."

God, she loved him. She smiled at him, with a hint of sadness that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Anna. She took off her robe and laid down on the bed, folding herself into his arms. She told him about Timothy's letters.


	15. Chapter 15

Finally Anna cracked. She came home and handed John another letter. He snorted, tightening his mouth, and turned to toss it on the pile with the others. She could not stand it anymore. "_Please speak to me!_" she shouted at him, starting to cry. He stared at her without expression.

Her shoulders slumped, she was desperate. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she realized something. Something that had never crossed her mind before. Slowly, she turned to look at John. He stared back at her, expressionless. She looked at him with absolute sadness in her eyes. Too sad even for tears. She watched him, for a moment, before she spoke.

"You don't love me anymore." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. She looked shocked at her own realization.

He furrowed his eyebrows together. "Is _that _what you think?" It was the most he'd said to her in days.

She was confused, stunned, angry. "_What else am I to think?!_"

He turned to leave.

"No." She shouted at him. Tears in her eyes. "I'm not doing this anymore. Talk to me. Or... yell at me, or... tell me to leave, or... divorce me." Her voice quivered on the last two words.

He was looking at her now. She saw no light in his eyes. She continued. "I love you and I will always love you. Timothy is _nothing_ to me. He has _always_ been _nothing_ to me. I was selfish and stupid and... he flattered me. That was it. I have never wanted anything but you."

John sighed and looked down. He walked out the front door. She let out a sob.

* * *

John thumbed his book in the servants' hall. He wasn't reading it, really. He thought about Anna. He thought about the letters. He didn't think about anything in them specifically. He didn't need to. When he thought about them he only pictured the outside of the envelopes. "Anna." The handwriting. The image was burned in his mind.

He breathed slowly. His chest hurt. It felt like it was being compressed. He couldn't form a straight thought anymore. He tried to think of what to say to Anna but his thoughts swam around in his mind. His shoulders felt heavy. He rubbed at his temple and closed his eyes.

He was tired all the time. He tried to put on a good face for Lord Grantham, but he could tell he suspected something. Lord Grantham understood that John sometimes had troubles and tended to leave him to it when he sensed that John was distant. He was thankful for it. At night he couldn't stop his thoughts from spinning out of control. He drank so he could sleep.

He realized he'd been staring at the same page for almost an hour. He thought about Anna's words. Her begging him to tell her what to do about Timothy. Timothy. Her tears. He saw her eyes looking at him. They were always red now. He wished he could remember how they looked when she was happy. That memory was vague. He could picture her crying next to him in the garden, perfectly. He saw every strand of hair falling across her face and saw her pained expression. But when he tried to think of her laughing, it was further away. He could see it, but it was distant. He couldn't recall exactly how her eyes crinkled when she laughed or how her mouth used to smile at him when she would discreetly squeeze his hand at work. He knew it was there, but he couldn't see the detail any more. He felt empty.

Nothing coherent came to him. When Anna pleaded with him, he had no response, so he said nothing. He knew he was frightening her, but he didn't know what else to do. Her words bounced off him. Sometimes he didn't even hear her. He felt worthless. He berated himself. What had he expected? She was young and beautiful. He was stupid to think she would belong to only him. The novelty had worn off. He could hardly bear to look at her. It made him ache. Thinking of her in his arms brought overwhelming grief. He only wanted her to be happy. She had told him to divorce her. It made his mind go blank again.

* * *

Carson woke slowly. He peered at the curtains on his window. It was still dim out. Early yet. He looked down at Elsie. She was where she always was now. Tucked in the crook of his arm, her head pressed against his chest. He had found that she was rather a heavy sleeper. At night, after, she would curl into him tightly, her breath against his chest. Her breasts pressing against his side. One of her legs draped over his. He had never slept as well as he did now. He drifted back to sleep.

He awoke suddenly, unsure why. Then he heard it again – a soft tap at his door. His pulse quickened, Elsie was still pressed against him. He froze. He was surprised to hear Mrs. Patmore's voice. "Mr. Carson…it's nearly half five. I've left you some tea." He heard her footsteps going down the stairs. The staff usually started to rise at 6, but Mrs. Patmore was always up earlier. Confused, he slipped out from under Elsie and cracked open his door. On a stool in the hall sat a tea tray with two cups. He sighed as he realized she had known. He supposed he wasn't all that surprised, she and Elsie were close. He realized Mrs. Patmore had just rescued them from an awkward situation before the other staff awoke. He took the tray and turned to wake Elsie.

They had been up late discussing Timothy. At first Carson wanted to tell Lord Grantham immediately, but eventually they agreed there was no way to do that without embarrassing Anna. It would have to be up to her if he were to be told. She had already ordered Timothy to stop giving her letters, but he continued. They couldn't figure how to make him stop. Bates had already broken his nose once and it only egged him on. He felt terrible for Anna.

* * *

Sitting at the bar, John stared at his drink. He had ordered it but he hadn't touched it yet. He thought about Anna. He felt his chest tighten. She had told him to divorce her. He could hear her words playing over and over again in his mind. The barkeep cast him an apprehensive glance as he stared at the same spot on the bar for almost an hour, ignoring everything. John didn't notice.

He pictured himself alone in their cottage. Looking at the wardrobe, all of her clothes gone. Standing in the kitchen, the shelves empty of the little decorative knickknacks she had put there. Sitting alone by the fire, a ghost of her image disappearing from her chair. He realized he was shaking.

He thought back to his old drinking days. He was young and stupid. He thought about the men he used to see at the pub. They complained often about their wives and ex-wives. Most were ordinary complaints, but he knew a few who were more angry, more bitter. Men who had abandoned women they loved over some slight or another. Who carried the hurt forever and drowned themselves in misery and alcohol. He realized he did not want to be one of those men. He would die without her. He was going to lose her. His own stubbornness would kill him. It was the most sober he'd felt in weeks.

Standing up from his untouched glass, he turned to go home.


	16. Chapter 16

It was dark out. Anna sighed when she heard him outside. She knew he wouldn't speak to her. He would avoid her gaze and go to the kitchen, where he would sit with a glass of whiskey until he went to bed. It was their routine now.

She thought about his smile. The crinkle in his eyes when he used to look at her. He had a smile reserved only for her. She noticed it years ago, before they even started courting. He never smiled at anyone else, or at any joke or humor, the way he smiled at her. It had belonged to her and she cherished it. She stopped herself from thinking about it. It was too sad.

He opened the door and stood in the doorway. She paused, staring at the book in her hand, not looking up. Avoiding him. She wondered how drunk he was. Not that it mattered. It wouldn't change anything. It's not like he kissed her anymore. They slept in the same bed, but that was it. He would fall into bed heavily, stinking of alcohol. Sometimes she tried to look at him, to see if he wanted anything. Maybe she could get through to him that way. But he never looked at her.

When he didn't move from the doorway she looked up at him. He held his hat in his hand and she saw tears in his eyes. Unthinking, she jumped from her chair and rushed to him. It had been weeks since he had shown her any emotion at all. She stood in front of him, trembling, unsure.

She thought he was going to tell her he was through. That they were over. That he could not forgive her. She felt her breath catch and her chest tighten. She did not want to hear it but she had to have something.

He let out a breath and whispered. "Oh, Anna."

She realized immediately what he meant. She flew into his arms and kissed him. He kissed her back, pulling her to him. He had come back to her.

* * *

Anna wrapped her arms more tightly around John's neck. His arms around her, he pulled her against him, savoring her mouth on his. He hadn't tasted her for months. He felt her tears on his cheeks. He pulled his head back to look at her. She was crying softly, overwhelmed. He pulled her back to him and they hugged each other. She nestled into his neck and he pressed his cheek against her hair. For now, nothing needed to be said. He let out a deep breath and allowed himself to feel happy, for the first time in a long time.

It was still difficult for her to believe. After all this time, after everything they had been through, that he was back in her arms. Leaning back, he gazed at her intently. She noticed that she did not smell alcohol on him. At this realization, she pressed herself back into him, filling with new relief. This was his decision. Sober. It suddenly felt more real.

He put his hand under her chin to tip her face to his and kissed her again, with more urgency. She could feel him against her now. She tightened her grip around his neck and leaned against him, signaling her acceptance. He pushed her gently toward the sofa and she resisted slightly. Breaking their kiss to look at him, she gently pulled away. Casting him a knowing look, she turned around. He stood still for a moment, allowing his eyes to follow her as she walked upstairs, toward their bedroom, he knew. Dropping his hat on the sofa and letting his jacket fall to the floor, he followed her up the stairs.

* * *

John watched Timothy's face contort with rage.

He and Anna had entered the servants' hall together. The night before, after they had been together, John had suddenly sat up and gotten out of bed. Anna was confused. "Where are you going?"

He turned and looked at her, beautiful and naked in the candlelight, lying in their bed. He hadn't admired her naked in so long it took him a moment to collect himself before he could respond. He looked at her with a serious expression. "It's time to take care of this for good."

For a moment she almost laughed at him. He saw her holding back a giggle and looked offended and slightly angry.

"I'm sorry." She quickly stammered. "I'm listening, I am. It's just that you're being very serious all of a sudden and… and you're naked." He looked down, realizing, at let out his own chuckle.

"So is it underpants you're taking care of...?" She looked at him with mock confusion. He realized how much he had missed her. He smiled broadly and took her hand, pulling her from the bed to kiss him. Turning serious again, he pressed his forehead against hers. "Underpants first, yes, but then we have something else to do."

She knew exactly what he was talking about. She pressed her body against his and her face into his neck. He stroked her hair. He felt her tighten her embrace for a second. She whispered. "Everything I want is you."

They put on their robes and she followed him downstairs into the kitchen. On the kitchen table, as always, lay the pile of letters. It made her anxious to look at them and it still did now, even though John had come back to her. It had nearly twenty more letters then when he first found them, all unopened.

Anna had given him every new one she received. If she received a new letter and he was not home when she got to the cottage, she would place it on the table beside the stack. When John got home he would wordlessly pick up the letter and add it to the pile. It was symbolic between them. She surrendered control. However Timothy was to be dealt with, it was up to John.

John picked up the entire stack without looking at it and walked into the sitting room. Never glancing at the envelopes in his hand, he snapped his wrist quickly and threw them into the glowing coals simmering in the bottom of the fireplace. They ignited immediately. Ignoring the flames, he turned to stare intently at Anna. She was his and would always be his. Anna stared into the flames, mesmerized. She felt immense relief.

"Tomorrow we speak with Timothy."

Anna nodded silently, watching the flames dance across the envelopes. She watched her name turn orange, then black, curling into papery ash.


	17. Chapter 17

Elsie was the first to see them. It was early. Bates and Anna were striding up the path toward the house. She smiled with relief, realizing they were holding hands. As they got closer, however, her smile faded. Anna looked scared. Looking at John, she saw that his face was gathered in a harsh expression. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed. Thinking for a moment, she rushed to find Charles.

Anna and John entered the servants' hall together, holding hands. Timothy was sitting alone at the table. He was looking at yesterday's paper and having tea. Instinctively, he ignored them. He had practiced ignoring both of them for months, it came easily to him now. He held back a smile as he thought about how much he knew it frustrated them, particularly Anna. He savored writing each of his letters and savored even more the curious glances she would give him as he paid her no attention. He could tell that she couldn't make sense of it. She had been looking after him less recently, but he was confident that he was getting to her.

John could feel Anna's hand quivering in his. She was scared. He decided not to think about it. As they stood in the doorway to the servants' hall, he turned his head to look at her. Her eyes looked frightened, but he squeezed her hand and gave her a determined nod. She nodded back at him, stiffening her mouth.

John stepped forward, he was standing across the table from Timothy now. He glared at Timothy with contempt. Timothy could not ignore his presence anymore. He looked up from his paper. He put on a mask, giving John a casual smile. John watched him. His eyes betrayed the phony smile he was wearing. They glimmered with anger. John smiled back with disgust.

Carson and Mrs. Hughes appeared outside the side doorway. They saw the two men facing each other across the servants' table. Charles put an arm out to stop Elsie from entering. He realized instinctively that they should not intrude. They stood outside the door and neither man seemed to notice them.

Seeing Timothy inspired Anna. When he looked at John with that artificial smile, she realized he was all an act. He was nothing more than pathetic theatre. She strode forward to stand beside John. She looked at Timothy determinedly and slipped her arm through John's elbow. They stood together, staring at Timothy.

Elsie and Charles saw Anna step forward into the room. Elsie let out a little gasp and started to go inside, but Charles quickly wrapped his hands around her waist and stilled her, holding her in front of him.

Timothy ignored Anna. He continued staring at John, but his phony smile had faded. As John felt Anna come up beside him and wrap her arm around his, his smile broadened into a wicked grin. He still looked at Timothy with disgust, but there was a new glimmer dancing in his eye. Timothy saw it and his face darkened. He realized. John had won.

Breaking the silence, John leaned forward, his eyes narrow and angry. He sneered at Timothy. "We burned your letters, Timmy boy."

Timothy's face contorted with rage. For the first time, he looked at Anna. Her expression was cold, hard. She looked at him with almost as much contempt as John. He felt the anger exploding inside him. He tried to act calm, but he could not keep his hands from shaking. He reached for his teacup, but the cup clattered against the saucer when he tried to pick it up. He slammed it back down and stood. He glared at John for an instant, his mouth twisted with fury, and strode out of the hall.

John let out a sigh and was suddenly caught in Anna's crushing embrace. He hugged her back and she pressed her face into his neck. His heart was beating hard and he kissed the top of her head.

As they stood holding one another, Carson and Mrs. Hughes entered the hall. Seeing them, John reflexively pulled away from Anna. Carson held a hand up to indicate to John that everything was fine. John gave him a confused look. At the same time, Mrs. Hughes moved toward Anna and Anna quickly stepped forward to hug her tightly, tears springing to her eyes. Mrs, Hughes embraced her and rubbed a hand on her shoulder.

John looked at the two women and back at Carson, realizing they must have known. Carson sighed and shook his head. "I'm just glad that it is over." John felt angry for a moment, but looking back at Anna and Mrs. Hughes, he realized what had happened. He had never known how close they were. With a painful pang, he remembered how long he had shut out Anna and suddenly felt immense relief that someone else had been there for her. But why did Carson know? He didn't have the energy to think about that now, he was just relived. Relieved that it was, indeed, over. Relieved that he had Anna back. Relieved that they could get back to their lives.

* * *

John sat in the servants' hall, repairing a frayed seam on one of Lord Grantham's jackets. As he worked, he thought about Timothy. He had told him about burning the letters several weeks ago. Since then, Timothy did not disguise his hatred of John, but John didn't particularly care. He wasn't afraid of him and it didn't matter anyway. He had Anna back. He had not forgotten about the letters, of course, but he had forgiven Anna. Timothy's words had been extremely powerful and she had been caught up in them. She had told John that she had never felt anything for Timothy, that it was only his flattery and graphic descriptions that were compelling to her and he believed her.

Some men would not be able to forgive as he had, but they had spoken about it extensively and he could see the truth in her eyes. He trusted her completely again. He thought back to that day at the bar sometimes, the day he had returned to her. He had not had a drink since before that day. It occurred to him that being in the bar was a mixed blessing. His return to drinking had taken him there, but being there had reminded him of the misery and sadness that he had seen in dozens of bars before. He had realized that he was just one more image of misery and sadness without her.

He thought about the letters. He wasn't angry, but something was bothering him. Typically, he only pictured the outside of the letters. Anna's name on the envelopes. Today, however, he let himself recall some of the writing Timothy had inscribed.

Carson came into the hall. He saw that John was alone. Glancing around to see if any other servants were about and finding no one, he sat down. John gave him a brief smile. Since finding out that Mrs. Hughes and Carson knew about what they had been through, he felt closer to the man. He never bothered to ask Carson how he knew. He had noticed how he and Mrs. Hughes interacted recently and he was fairly sure he knew what was going on. Carson had been respectfully discreet when he obviously knew that he and Anna were courting and he felt it best to return the favor.

"How is everything going?" Carson asked. John understood his meaning.

"Fine. The same." John pulled the needle through the cloth. "There's nothing else to do."

Carson sighed, looking frustrated. "I wish there was."

They had talked about this several times. How to get rid of Timothy for good. Lord Grantham knew nothing about the letters and there was no way to tell him without revealing everything that had happened. Neither John or Anna wanted to get into that, so the unfortunate situation was that they were stuck with him. John and Carson had puzzled over why Lord Grantham kept Timothy on in the first place, after the garden party, but neither of them could come up with a respectable reason.

John had come to learn that both Carson and Mrs. Hughes were extremely fond of Anna. That they looked at her almost as a daughter. It made him very glad. Before, he hadn't realized, or simply hadn't thought about it. But they, and he, had been through a very dark place and he was grateful that she had them.

John continued sewing. Carson looked at the table and rubbed his hands together. Absentmindedly, he asked, "where's Anna?"

The maids were Mrs. Hughes's domain, so he didn't always know. "She's gone down to the village. Lady Mary had a package for her to pick up and Mrs. Patmore asked her to get some groceries for tomorrow as long as she was going down."

"You didn't go with her?" John loved walking with Anna, of course, but he had admitted that the walk was not easy on his knee. Now that he had her to himself every night, unlike before they were married, he didn't always accompany her if he didn't have need to. He would see her later.

"I had this damned jacket to attend to." He smiled at Carson.

* * *

Timothy's jaw was clenched. Evil flashed in his eyes. He walked to the village briskly.


	18. Chapter 18

After Carson left the servants' hall, John went back to thinking about Timothy's letters. He felt uneasy. He thought about Timothy's words. The explicit parts were one thing, but John was past feeling uncomfortable about that. He thought about the other things Timothy told Anna. That he loved her. That he wanted to be with her always. That they could run away together.

Initially, it had been the worst part. John had thought that Anna kept the letters because she was entertaining the idea. Considering leaving him. Eventually, after discussing it with her, he learned that she skipped over those parts. It was the graphic parts that pulled her in. It was pornographic, basically, and she had been drawn to that. It didn't make it better to him, but it didn't make it worse.

Still, he puzzled over the words of affection. Anna had sworn that she never wrote him back and he believed her. Timothy had told her that his heart belonged to her and that he would love her forever. He thought back to watching them, before he found the letters. Timothy would ignore Anna, even when he didn't know anyone was looking. Anna would give him puzzled looks, which made sense now that he knew she was receiving these letters from him, but he wouldn't even look at her.

John mulled it over. What kind of man in love doesn't look at the woman he loves? He thought back to when he started loving Anna, when he first began work at Downton. He had infinite reasons to stay away from her – he was too old, he was _married _– and he had constantly told himself to stay away, but still it had been obvious to all that he was enamored with her. It wasn't something that could be hidden easily. He'd managed to keep his hands off her, but he had never been able to keep his eyes away.

He thought back to the garden party. Timothy putting an arm around Anna. It couldn't have gone anywhere, obviously. They were standing next to over a hundred guests. Why had he done it? It was reckless.

* * *

He was still feeling uneasy, trying to figure out Timothy, when Thomas walked in.

Normally they did not get along, but Thomas seemed to have relaxed toward John ever since the garden party. He seemed less like he was actively trying to get under John's skin. John raised his eyebrows when he walked in and gave him a brief nod. Thomas sat down and lit a cigarette. They sat in silence for a while. John continued sewing.

"So, how's the admirer?" Thomas sarcastically referred to Timothy.

John glared at him over the jacket. Thomas relaxed his expression. "Only joking, Mr. Bates. I'm sure you're happy to come out the victor."

John had a sudden impulse to ask him. "What do you make of him?"

"Timothy?"

"Yeah."

Thomas shrugged. He seemed to genuinely be considering it, John was glad to realize. He was tired of his constant sarcasm.

"It's obvious." He looked at John, pulling on his cigarette.

John stared at him, waiting.

Being of his condition, Thomas had become very focused on reading people. Body language. He and his type couldn't very well go around advertising themselves. They had to learn to read people's mannerisms. How they held themselves, how they acted. Timothy had been obvious to him from the beginning.

"Do you like fishing?" He asked John.

John frowned at him. He hated Thomas's games. He had been stupid to ask him.

Thomas continued. "Most men like it because they like the fish. Some men don't. They don't care about the fish. They care about the catch."

John processed his words. He realized what he was saying.

Thomas went on. "But for some men, other men, the catch isn't even the rewarding part. It's not the point. The point is that they beat the river. That they're better than it."

John's eyes widened.

In a rush, everything came to him. Timothy didn't care about Anna. Well, he might have, before. But after John broke his nose, Anna wasn't the important thing. The important thing was beating John. He could beat John by winning Anna, but he had failed at that. After John told him that he burned the letters, the rage he had seen was his failure. He didn't want to win Anna, he only wanted destruction.

That's why he didn't look at Anna after the garden party. He wasn't interested in her. The letters were graphic and detailed. He knew John would find them eventually. He had hoped it would break them up. That's why he kept sending them after Anna had hissed at him to stop. She wasn't interested but he didn't care.

John realized that he was the target, not Anna. His stomach rose to the back of his throat as he realized that they had completely fallen into his trap. He was a pawn. He had almost left Anna.

Thomas eyed John. John's face had gone pale and he had dropped the jacket he was sewing. "Everything alright?" He asked tentatively.

John turned to Thomas. His eyes were wide with realization. Thomas eyed him carefully. John was blunt. "You're right." He said, as much to himself as to Thomas.

Thomas watched him. Bates looked stunned. He wasn't trying to give Thomas a hard time. To be honest, Thomas didn't really dislike Bates anymore and he felt sorry for Anna, although he would never show it. Timothy was a piece of work and he wouldn't want to be the one he was after. For an instant he felt sorry for Bates.

* * *

Timothy sat on his bed and wrung his hands together. That morning, that asshole Bates had told him that he burned his letters. He could see his face in front of him. The way he grinned at him. His confidence. "Timmy boy." He wanted to smash it. Smash it like he had smashed his nose. His mouth contorted in anger.

He stood up suddenly to pace around his room. His anger was overflowing. It was about to overtake him. He had to get control of himself. Putting his hands on top of his head, he breathed deeply as he walked to the window and back to his bed. He took his hands and gripped the bed frame. His knuckles were white and his forearms flexed as he tried to bend the iron.

He ground his teeth and breathed again. Bates had no idea who he was dealing with. He was a piece of shit. An old man. He sneered at the thought. He pictured John. He wanted to destroy him.

He took a breath. It came to him. He would hit him where it would hurt him most. Anna. He would just have to be patient.

* * *

Thomas and John still sat in the servants' hall. John's thoughts were spinning. Carson and Mrs. Hughes came in the side door at the same time Jimmy walked in from the stairs. Jimmy looked at Thomas. "Have you seen Timothy? He said he would help me with the polishing, but I can't find him anywhere."

Thomas didn't even bother looking at Jimmy. "He's not here. I saw him walking toward the village."

John exploded to his feet. Anna was in the village. Desperate, he looked at Carson. "_Did you give him permission?_"

Carson's eyes were wide. "He didn't ask me."

Charles and Elsie exchanged a nervous glance. Thomas saw the exchange and quickly realized what was happening. Elsie looked at John and Charles. "_Take the car_." She ordered quietly.

Even Thomas looked nervous. "_I can drive_." John and Carson looked surprised for an instant, but there wasn't any time. The three men hurried out the door.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N - Last chapter, everyone. Thanks for reading! This was really fun to conceive and write. All your comments and feedback have been awesome.**

* * *

John and Carson stood outside the back door. Elsie was instructing them. Anna had gone down to the village to retrieve a dress from one of the shops that had been ordered for Lady Mary. Since she was going, Mrs. Patmore had asked her to pick up a few groceries. Carson was nodding. John stared at her, looking nervous.

Thomas pulled the car up and John and Charles scrambled in. Charles looked at John. "It might be nothing." He felt uneasy about the situation, but he wanted to reassure John. John looked terrified. It made Charles feel worse.

"We'll split up." Charles said to Thomas. Thomas nodded. They pulled up to the center of the village and Charles and Thomas hurried off in opposite directions, toward the grocer and the woman's shop. They could move faster than John.

John stood by the car, frantically looking around. His mind was racing but he tried to force himself to think. Where would she be? The dress would be bulky, she would probably get that last. The groceries would be heavy, though, so maybe she would get the dress first. Could she be anywhere else?

He pictured her face and thought about a conversation they had the night before. She had asked him if he wanted to come with her to the village today. He had squeezed her hand and apologized, noting that his knee ached after so much walking. He would see her after, he had smiled at her. He was furious with himself.

He forced himself to focus. Where would she be? Suddenly it came to him. When they went to the village alone, they often bought small presents for each other. It was almost a tradition between them. She usually got him a book. It would be small and light. She would do that first. He rushed toward the bookshop.

* * *

Timothy skulked along. It had not taken him long to catch up to her. When he had overheard Anna telling Mrs. Hughes that she had to go pick up a dress for Lady Mary, he realized it was his opportunity. He felt a sinister calm com over him. He knew what he was going to do. He was going to show Bates who was boss.

He watched her walk into the bookshop. He stood at the corner, his hat pulled low. Perfect. The bookshop in the village was small and somewhat dingy. It was down a side street next to an alley that wrapped around behind a pub. He waited.

* * *

Anna stepped out of the bookshop. She was smiling. She had selected a volume of poems by Robert Frost. She thought John would like it. Suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth and she was being dragged backward. She flailed, trying to free herself, but he was too strong.

* * *

John strode toward the book shop. He was out of breath. He looked around for a moment, craning his head in every direction, looking for her. There was no one around. Moving closer something caught his eye. On the ground at the corner by the shop was a book. He glanced at the cover. Robert Frost. He had mentioned it to Anna. His heart started hammering and adrenaline rushed through him. He looked around again, frantically. Suddenly he heard a muffled yelp coming from the alley next to the book shop.

The alley was long and dark and it continued around a corner. He dropped his cane and rushed forward. He didn't even notice. Adrenaline had taken over now and he had no need of it.

There was trash and refuse littering the alley. He scanned the piles as he went. Suddenly he saw what he needed. A broken piece of a wrought iron railing. It was about two inches across and half a meter long. He picked it up without stopping. It was heavy.

He came around the corner in the alley. He was behind the pub now with solid brick walls on either side. He saw them up ahead. Timothy had thrown Anna to the ground and was attempting to straddle her. She was writhing underneath him, clawing at his chest. He held her down by her face, his hand clamped over her mouth. His other hand was reaching up her skirt.

Running up behind Timothy, John gripped the iron bar in both hands and swung as hard as he could.

* * *

Anna was trying to scream but his hand was pressed into her mouth. He had forced her legs apart and was clawing at her knickers. She was flailing at him, trying to push him off her. Suddenly John appeared behind him and her eyes flew open with shock.

Timothy saw Anna's eyes widen at something behind him. He started to turn.

* * *

John swung the iron bar, aiming for Timothy's ear. At the last second, Timothy flinched and the bar went crashing into his shoulder. The force of the blow knocked him off Anna, onto his back. John was on top of him in an instant. He straddled Timothy and held him down with his weight. John was a bigger man.

With his left hand, he grabbed Timothy by the neck. Timothy had been stunned by the blow for an instant, but now tried to fight back. He clawed at John's arm and tried to buck him off him. John's eyes were wild with rage. He tightened his grip on Timothy's neck and raised the bar above his head. Timothy's bucking turned more frantic as he realized what was about to happen.

* * *

John froze. Timothy was writhing under his grip and his face was turning a purplish hue, but everything felt still for a moment. He looked up. Anna was kneeling beside them. She had said his name. Once, quietly. Imploringly. "_John_."

He looked at her. Her eyes were pleading with him. He saw tears in them. He understood. He shifted his shoulder and brought the bar crashing down, into Timothy's ribs. He heard a sickening crunch and Timothy contorted. Shifting the bar to his left hand he punched Timothy in the face, twice, three times. Timothy was not resisting now.

Grabbing the bar at each end he slammed it into Timothy's neck, crushing it against his Adam's apple. Timothy was coughing and sputtering. He was clawing at Johns hands and kicking his legs uselessly.

John leaned over him until his mouth was almost touching Timothy's ear. He whispered to him, so softly that Anna couldn't hear. "_I've already killed one person for her_." Timothy's eyes flew open with fear. "_I won't hesitate again_."

He leaned back and punched Timothy once more in the face. He stood up and took Anna's hand. There were tears streaming down her face but she looked relieved. He pulled her to her feet.

He looked back at Timothy. He was on his side holding his ribs, coughing, blood and spittle flying out of his mouth. One of his eyes was already swelling shut. John straightened up. "You're never coming back to Downton. Never." He stared at him for another second, then swung the bar again, hitting him in the lower back. Timothy cried out in pain.

Taking Anna's hand again, they turned and walked away.

* * *

Carson saw them as they came around the corner. He let out a huge sigh of relief and rushed over to them. As he got closer, he became alarmed and began looking around to see if anyone else could see them. Anna's eyes were red and puffy and she was clinging to John. Bates was a frightful mess. His sleeves were both torn and he had blood splattered all over his shirt. For a moment Carson was grateful that his dark jacket was probably disguising even more blood.

He looked at the hand gripping his cane. He was startled. Bates's knuckles were red and bleeding. He looked back to his face, John was looking intently at Anna as they walked, but his face looked otherwise fine. Carson began to realize what must have happened.

Carson's eyes were wide as they approached him. After the adrenaline had begun to wear off, John was exhausted. They had retrieved his cane, but Anna was gripping his arm tightly and leaning against him. It wasn't the easiest walk back to the center of town for him. She was deeply shaken, but otherwise unhurt. He was still angry at himself for not joining her in the first place, but relieved that the worst had not happened.

John spoke before Carson had to ask. "Timothy has been taken care of."

Carson's eyes flew open even wider. Confused, John gave him a curious look for a moment. Then he realized what Carson must be thinking. "Not like that..." he added quickly, noticing that he had blood all over him, "...but we won't be seeing him again."

"Oh thank god." Carson let out an audible sigh, but quickly collected himself. Eying Bates's blood-splattered shirt, he began looking around for Thomas and the car. "_We have to get you out of here_." He whispered urgently

* * *

Back at the cottage, Anna turned to John. He had stripped off his shirt and she admired him. She walked up to him and put her arms around his neck. He looked apprehensive. She could see that he was unsure how she was going to react. For the first time since the village, she smiled up at him. A look of relief passed over his face and he smiled back at her, embracing her.

She closed her eyes and kissed him. She smiled inwardly and thought about how much she loved him. She had seen the look on his face. What he was capable of. What he had been prepared to do. It made her feel powerful. It was deeply arousing. Before, she had known he had a smile that belonged only to her. Now she knew there was so, so much more.

- End -


End file.
